


While The Night Is Young

by vici_diem



Category: Arkham City - Fandom, Arkham Knight - Fandom, Batman - Fandom, DC Comics, Jason Todd - Fandom, Metropolis - Fandom, Romance - Fandom, Superman - Fandom, lex luthor - Fandom
Genre: Arkham Knight, Batman - Freeform, Bruce Wayne - Freeform, DC comics - Freeform, F/M, Gotham City - Freeform, Jason Todd - Freeform, Metropolis, Red Hood - Freeform, lex luthor - Freeform, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 11:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9723407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vici_diem/pseuds/vici_diem
Summary: Your name is Kit Marlowe. You are the mysterious daughter of Lex Luthor, who was hidden away since childhood with your mother in New York until she died of cancer. Since then, your father raised you, though not many people knew of your existence or how you actually look like, until one day, when your father was invited to Gotham City to attend a masquerade party hosted by Bruce Wayne, honouring the anniversary of Wayne Industries.You hated parties, but as soon as you walked in, you piqued the interest of none-other than Jason Todd. He was also tasked by Bruce Wayne, his father, on getting to know the mysterious daughter of Lex Luthor, who just appeared out of nowhere a few years ago. And seeing it as an opportunity to escape from everyone, he pulled you to the greatest escape of your night.





	

“This is not a request, daughter.” my father said, his voice stern, reminding me who I am, the daughter of the ‘great’ Lex Luthor. Yet funny enough, I didn’t even bother to change my name to Kit Luthor. 

I roll my eyes, as most teenagers do, with my arms folded and my foot tapping against the floor. He hated it, so I kept doing it. Ah, the wonders of puberty. 

“I mean it, Kit. I want you ready in 1 hour.” he ordered, walking out of my room to let the team of stylists who had been waiting outside for the past hour, in. 

They came in, gesturing me towards the chair in front of the dressing table. I reluctantly take a seat as they doll me up. This is getting stupider and stupider. I mean, who still holds a masquerade in the 21st century? What happened to regular parties? Hell, what happened to the world? People are getting stupider and stupider each generation. 

I put my earphones on and close my eyes as they ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ at my skin, or my eyes, or whatever body parts they think they could sway me into talking about. ‘Stacy’s Mom’ by Fountains of Wayne played on my ear and I tapped my foot against the beat. 

I think I might’ve fallen asleep through the whole thing. And when I said the ‘whole thing’, I meant just the make-up and the hair. I opened my eyes and tried not to shout. It was not bad, hell, it was good. The hairstyle suited my personality so much I would think they were reading my mind. My hair was highlighted with streaks of white and braided to one side, with curls on the edges. I looked like the teenage daughter of a ghoul or something. I smiled at the sight, fingering the curled edges. 

“Have you seen the dresses, Miss Luthor?” one of the stylists asked. 

“Did my father chose any of it? And please, it’s Miss Marlowe.” I corrected, to which she apologised. 

“No, I chose it, Miss Marlowe. But if it is not to your liking…”

“Show me.” I said, cutting her off. 

She gestured to her team of assistants and they wheeled down a rack filled with dresses from different well-known designers. One thing I liked about all this, is the fact that none of them are in pink. Either she was lucky, or she did her research and figured I didn’t like pink. 

I stand and put my hand on each of them, caressing the fabric, trying to see if it would be comfortable or not. One dress stood out from the rest of them though. A red silk floor-length gown, with black laces draped over my upper body up to my upper thigh, with a black-laced hoodie at the back. It is perfect. I pointed to the dress and begin the long process of putting it on. 

Father was already inside the car when I climbed in, checking his watch and scowling. I was late, for perhaps 5 minutes but that was because I was busy searching for my much-needed earphones. Who knows I might find a lonely corner where I can just sit and listen to my songs instead of the dreadful music of horrible remixes of cheesy pop songs. I never have high hopes for parties like these, they are usually filled with airheads trying to make conversation even though they clearly don’t like you. 

‘Dead End in Tokyo’ by Man With A Mission played on my earphones as the driver made the drive down to the hotel, owned by none-other than Bruce Wayne. My father hated it here in Gotham, but he had to come attend for some reason. He is always the private one. Hell, I didn’t even know he was my father until I was 10 years old and my mother was diagnosed with cancer. It was then, that my mother told me everything. How they hid me away because of what had happened to his previous wife and child. How even though my mother never had a stable job, we were never starving like the kids that I attended to school with. 

And when my mother passed away, my father took me in. Yet regardless of taking me in, not many knew how I actually look like, since I was not allowed to even be in social media for fear of my safety and the safety of my company. No one trusts me, not that I care. I’d like to think that I was like a ghost, the mysterious daughter of Lex Luthor and Pippa Marlowe. My father hadn’t pressured me to change my last name, even though I am his heir. I am not eager to be a Luthor either, so we never brought the subject up. 

My father wrenched away my earphones when we are nearing the building and I had to bit my lip from saying something I might regret. I didn’t know where I got my temper, probably mom though. I’ve seen her smashing things when she was mad, while my father was always cold and stoic. 

“We’re almost here and I would appreciate it if you didn’t bring these down.” he said, throwing my earphones out of the window. 

My eyes widen at what he did to my one chance of escaping reality. “You don’t have to do that.” 

“As a matter of fact, I do. I can’t have you listening to music while we were inside, it’s disrespectful. How do you think that will reflect on me?”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have brought me along.”

“No, you are sadly a part of my plan.” he said, his voice softer but filled with ambition. I roll my eyes and face the window as the car pulled to a stop, pretending that his words have no effect on me. 

Photographers are taking pictures as we walk up the steps, my hand on my father’s arm, like a dutiful daughter. We both smiled and played the happy family, smiling at the different cameras before walking inside. My father told me that he will tell everyone who I really am, so he told me that there was no need to be walking inside first like I usually do. 

The thought of my father using me for his gains brought disappointment in my chest, but I ignored it. What is life without a few disappointments? In fact, I was so well-practiced in the art of being disappointed, to the point where I could even disappoint people without even trying. 

I tried not to gape at the sight when we enter the ballroom, with decorations that seemed like it came out of the Phantom of the Opera. It seemed like this Bruce Wayne guy had spared no expense in a masquerade party for his company. There is an orchestra in the middle of the stage, playing a mixture of classical and jazz music. In the middle is the dance floor, where couples are twirling like the merry-go-round. One side was the bar, the other was the food station with high tables circling the dance floor. 

A man came up to us from the side, dressed in one of the most impressive tuxes I’ve ever seen. His hair is sleeked back and if he wasn’t almost my father’s age, I would’ve lost my shit. He moved with a certain elegance that would make any lady swoon. It was no wonder that Bruce Wayne was such a ladies’ man. 

“Good to meet you, Lex Luthor. And who might this young lady be?” he asked, smiling one of his fake smiles. One skill I’ve earned by attending these parties, is how to differentiate real and fake smiles. From the tension of both of them, it’s clear they don’t like each other. 

“Oh, how rude of me. She’s my daughter, Christie.”

I tried not to flinch when he said my full name. I hated my name. “And you must be Mr.Wayne. I’ve heard a lot about you.” I replied, shaking his hand. 

He smiled in reply, before engaging my father in business talk, which is a code for ‘thank god I can get out of this conversation’. I politely excused myself and make my way to the bar, in need of some booze. 

I leaned against the bar and order a glass of beer. If the bartender seemed confused at my order, he didn’t show, because he handed me one when I flashed him my fake (but really convincing) ID. The song had drifted into something more upbeat that sounded like it’s from the soundtrack of Chicago. A woman was singing soulfully, accompanying the music. 

I was trying to figure out the song when a deep voice tickled my ear. I jumped and thank the lord that I was not holding my beer or it would splash all over. I turned over to a man. Wait, let me rephrase, a beautiful man, holding a glass of scotch, dressed in a suit that hugs his figure in the right places and I try as hard as I can not to drool. 

“You must be Christie.” he guessed, holding out his hand. He has a streak of white in his hair, I noticed, familiar with mine.  
I am pretty sure ‘Sweet Transvestite’ is playing in the background whenever he smiles. He took me silence as a yes when he grinned and offer, “Wanna dance?” 

I swallowed and nodded, taking his hand as we make it towards the dance floor. His electric blue eyes is boring into my soul and I am in lost of words. Get your bearings, you idiot! 

“Call me Kit.” I said, after mustering up my courage when he put one arm around my was it and the other holding my hand. 

“Jason.” he replied, still smiling his seductive smile as he twirls me around like I was his dolled-up marionette. 

“How did you know what my name was?”

“You were talking to my adopted father, Bruce Wayne.”

“Right.” I replied, as we danced. 

I didn’t how long we were dancing in silence, enjoying the music and the rare peace and tranquility. I never thought I would enjoy waltzing. Hell, I never thought I would enjoy so much being close to someone in a place like this, dressed like this. And when we were making our way back to the bar, as if the enchantment was over, my feet starting to hurt from all the dancing. Dammit, I should’ve worn heels more often. 

“Look at these airheads.” he said, out of nowhere, while I was sipping the vodka soda that I ordered. I nearly splurged my drink out of my mouth. 

“Aren’t these your people?” I asked, confused at his sudden disloyalty. 

“Fuck no.” he replied, turning to me, taking my hand and say, “Let’s get out of here.”

“My father-“

“Fuck it.” he cuts me off, pulling me towards the back door of the ballroom. My heart hammers in my chest at the thought of what we are doing, what we are about to do. I don’t know if I might live through this night, or come back the same. But one thing for sure, I haven’t feel so alive in such a long time. I owe this for myself. 

We got out of the ballroom, still hand-in-hand and into the elevator. People are staring at us as we passed by the hallway but they didn’t do nor say anything. We both grinned maliciously at each other, until he grabbed both of my face and planted his lips on mine. Our tongues tangled against one another as the kiss gets hungrier. Thank god the elevator was empty, or we wouldn’t be able to do this. Yet I have a sneaking suspicion that the notorious Jason Todd wouldn’t care. 

He broke off the kiss when the elevator ‘dings’ on our floor. It opened to reveal the parking lot where he continued pulling me towards the red Ducati Monster 821 Stripe. I am pretty sure my heart, which was beating like crazy just a few minutes ago, stopped beating altogether at the sight. Holy shit. His grin got bigger at the sight of me gaping at his motorcycle. I’ve always wanted this same exact model but my father deemed it too dangerous for a girl like me. 

I hastily took off my shoes and dumped in on the ground, feeling his gaze on my hands and on the my exposed thighs as I ripped the bottom half of my dress. If I’m going to ride this, I want to be myself, to be the most comfortable I can be. 

“Too bad, I do love those shoes.” he said, as the smooth purr of the engine come to life.

“Then you can wear them if you’d like.”

He laughed in reply as he climbed on his beautiful bike. He turned to me and flick his head to the seat behind him, gesturing for me to climb on. 

“Helmets?”

“Live dangerously.” That, I can do.

I climbed on without complain, putting my leg over his waist, my inner thigh clipping tight against his. I put my arms around his waist and place my chin on his shoulder. I could feel him growing tense at the press of our bodies but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he whisked us out of the parking lot, out of the building and through the streets of Gotham. 

I didn’t know much about the city, but I am starting love it by the looks of it. The architecture, a mixture of old and modern. It reminded me of a mixture of New York and London. It’s beautiful. One thing for sure, this wouldn’t be my last time here. I can actually see why Bruce Wayne is so proud of this city. If it wasn’t for the crime rate, it would definitely be one of the greatest cities on Earth. 

He pulled us into a stop in front of Gotham Cathedral, a gothic building that looks like it was something out of a period drama. He helped me down, smiling at the mess of my hair and making his way inside. Self-conscious, I took off the remaining pins and let it all fall on my back, the white streaks and the curls still visible. Hmm, I might just leave it like this for good. 

He took us up, silent as we make our way through the stairs and my mouth is open again as we enter the Cathedral Square. I look over the railings, gaping at the beauty of Gotham City at night. The skyscrapers, the roads, the lights, everything. 

Wind lightly blows through his hair, like a careless whisper. He keeps his eyes at the view of the city as I stare at him, trying to memorise his features.  
“You know, everyone’s curious about you.” he said, his deep voice filling the silence.

“What do you mean?”

“They wanted to know who Lex Luthor’s mysterious daughter is. Will she pose a threat to humanity, like her father is? Is she insane, like how her mother was rumoured to be?”

“By ‘they’ I’m pretty sure you mean Bruce.” I replied nonchalantly. 

“Yeah, he wanted me to get to know you.”

“What for? I’m just another daughter of a rich man who hates Metropolis.” I confessed. 

“If only you knew.”

“Knew what?” I asked, my interest piquing as my curiosity rises. 

He turned to me, put both hands on my cheeks and say, “How much I want you right now.”

I knew he lied, I can see it from his eyes. But I didn’t care, not at that moment. I shove that knowledge to the back of my mind, promising myself that I will ask more about it tomorrow when he pushed me from the back of my head to his mouth. Our lips collided and that was all I could think about as our needs grow more urgent while the night is young.


End file.
